Aftershadows
by Pakari Yacer
Summary: Summer has ended, but the twins' year of being thirteen has just begun! They'll face middle school, friends and foes both new and old, hormones, and a surprising number of mysteries. And everyone knows what kind of a number thirteen is. Xp qeb xkzfbkg bsfi fp sxknrfpeba, gelpb tel pbosb efj xob jxpqboibpp. A direct sequel. T for... possibilities
1. Chapter 1

Shattered windows lined cracked streets. Odd scrapes on the ground shared space with claw and hoof marks, both larger than the cars smashed within them. Foreign stains could be seen on the pavement, green and purple and the occasional rust red.

But even bruised and battered as it was, Gravity Falls was getting back up again. Yes, none would dare say that they had seen worse than the events of the past week, but the citizens had busied themselves with the rebuilding effort, and slowly but surely the broken pieces of the small Oregon town were coming together. Relief and enthusiasm were in the air, relief that it was inexplicably over, and also enthusiasm to pretend—with some marked exceptions—that absolutely none of it had happened.

As each triangular mark staining the surfaces of the walls and streets were cleaned or scoured away, the sudden shivers and fearful glances to the shadows were pushed back by supporting embraces and kind words, all inspired by the actions of the select individuals who had stood and stopped the one-eyed inter-dimensional threat.

A small chubby child with poofy pale hair was busy ordering his band of muscle-bound thugs to shovel up the remnants of a wall, while further down the street a very normal-looking man in a stained white shirt and tie was working alongside a small group of red-haired children directed and led by a huge man in corduroy denim that was bellowing his tough encouragement for all the town to hear. A rumbling echoed off the walls and further down the way an improbable treaded machine piloted by a cackling old man chugged its way down the street, literally eating all of the rubble on its path. A short ways away a slim teenage girl wearing a blue baseball cap was trying her best to sweep up the fallen assortments of potato chip bags from an overturned semi truck.

She was the one the hooded figure chose to approach. Booted feet barely making a sound on the cracked pavement, the small figure left the comforting shadow of an alley. The girl's green eyes flashed up and she backed away a cautious step, orange hair falling down her back in a wave. "Hey there," she called warily, and the figure slowed its approach, holding up a gloved hand in the universal gesture of peace. One could never be too careful, especially after Wierdmageddon.

Wendy Corduroy surveyed the strange figure, wondering why anyone would wear so many layers of dark clothing on a warm summer day. At least the sunglasses kind of made sense… "What's up, kid, you looking for something to do?"

The small person paused. "I… I searching for… someone."

Wendy raised an eyebrow. "Well, there's quite a few someones around here, kid, gonna have to be a _bit_ more specific than that."

It seemed uncertain for a moment, and cocked its head slightly as it put the words together. "They… that sent... destroyed the demon. On head."

Wendy furrowed her brow in confusion, then looked up in surprise as the figure pointed to the hat on her head, labeled with a blue pine tree. "Oh, you mean the twins!" A smile spread on her face and she took the hat off. "Dipper and Mabel? Yeah, they went home just the other day." Her smile faded and she looked at the hat for a silent second, then noticed as the figures' head fell. Wendy looked at it in concern. "I'm sorry you missed them, are you a friend of theirs?"

It ignored the question and asked one to her instead. "Where they now?" However, having thought about it, Wendy realized that in fifteen years of living in this town she had never seen this particular specimen of weirdness. While that in and of itself was not a worrying thing, considering that her life had recently almost been ended on multiple occasions by weird things, caused Wendy's suspicions to rise. "Um, probably back home in California by now… who are you?"

Too fast for Wendy to react, the figure snatched the hat from her hand and bolted away. For barely a second the teenager was frozen, then an infuriated cry tore from her lips. "Hey! Give that back, you little—"

Just as quickly as the figure had nabbed the baseball cap, it relinquished the newfound prize, not slowing its frantic pace. The cap tumbled gently to the broken street, only to be scooped up quickly by the running Wendy. "What the hell— get back here!" she called, looking back up furiously to find—

There was nobody there.

Out of Wendy's view, the figures' posture straightened, its pace became more determined, and its pretended shyness was left behind like a discarded coat. It beat a path out of town and entered the forest, the tall pines obscuring most of the painful light. The dark glasses remained.

A light rain began to fall, but the figure did not falter, unceasing pace taking it past trees and boulders and a dirt road leading to a rickety wooden shack. It ran past a metal tree and its secrets. It ran past shining crystals, abandoned mines, and standing stones.

It ran to the base of the mountains.

Ducking into a hidden cave, the figure let itself drip briefly before stepping up onto a ledge of stone, where three other figures were. The two that were taller than the new arrival were gathered around a softly glowing blue screen, whispering in a tongue that was older than the earth itself. They all wore the dark glasses, features hidden by deep hoods.

The First figure spoke then. _"They are not here."_ Taking notice of the new arrival, the Smallest being stood and stumbled over to the first. _"Not now, little one."_ the figure scolded, and the smaller shrunk and backed away hesitantly as it was passed by the speaker.

 _"Then do you have what we need to find them?"_ The Tallest demanded, and the Last watched warily. In response, the First held out a hand, and a single hair stood out between two fingers. It was brown, short, and slightly curly. Without further words the Tallest took the hair pointedly and touched it to the glowing screen held in its hand. The arrival took a place beside the two others, having to crane its' neck to see properly.

The screen showed the edge of the great continent, then began moving rapidly southward until the coastline began to taper east. The view began to dive downwards until the ocean was no longer visible, details beginning to form until individual houses could be seen. It settled on a small dwelling at the end of a urban street. In the backyard, there appeared to be a small pink animal rolling in the grass with a laughing child.

 _"There. You will find them there."_ The Tallest figure proclaimed, looking down on the shorter.

The Last figure looked between the screen and the First figure desperately. _"Can we not wait? We have only just arrived."_

 _"No,"_ the First figure stated, retaining the brisk tone.

" _Azoi is right. This must be done."_ the Tallest being agreed. The Last wilted visibly, and the First straightened in determination, facing fully the Tallest, who spoke. _"You are ready?"_

The First knelt on the cold stone. _"It has been taken from me, yet I am ready."_

The Tallest handed the screen to the First, then reached into a fold of his cloak and drew out a shining silver dagger. Upon the blade was inscribed dozens of tiny triangles, and a single eye adorned the pommel.

 _"Go. Fulfil your task."_

The First stood and turned to leave.

" _Wait."_ The First paused. The Last took the seeking hand of the Smallest, then reached out to the First.

The First looked to the Tallest, meeting its disapproving stare, then regarded the Last's hand. " _I have a task. I must fulfil it."_ Its voice was hard and it turned away again. It reached the exit but paused. " _If… if I do not return… remember my name."_

 _"I would never forget, dark of my heart. Now go."_

The First nodded and left without another word. The rain had become a mist, and the figure soon vanished within it.


	2. Chapter 2

Dipper Pines stood under a starless sky. Light came from the flames licking at his feet, but they didn't hurt him. He looked in confusion at the fields of dark rock that spread around him and wondered how, if they were black, somehow emitting a red haze. The scorched, pitted surface continued until the horizon was broken by a pair of black cliffs, connected by a barely-visible bridge. He knew this place.

Dipper walked forward, black glass crunching under his shoes, looking for anything recognizable. Unease pulled at his heart, and Dipper found himself shrinking slightly; his arms rising to hold himself, if only to feel the touch of something not alien. He trudged onward, pulled by some vague sense of direction, and driven by a hint of deep fear that never quite became realized panic.

Something darted in the corner of his vision. He spun, movements blurred and delayed, and cried, "Who's there!?" Nothing replied, and the darkness swallowed his words as they left his mouth. Dipper took a shaking breath, trying to calm himself, and straightened, eyes narrowing. He had helped defeat an ageless dream demon, protected his family, _and_ turned thirteen all in the same week. Whatever this was, he was Dipper Pines. He could handle this. Dipper straightened his blue baseball cap and turned forward again.

The burning wreck of a car was silhouetted against the black day. Dipper shouted a wordless cry and stumbled backwards, the heat singeing his unprotected hands and arms. And then Dipper recognized the car. Not wanting to believe his eyes, he rounded the burning rear of the car, and saw a figure slumped in the driver's seat. It had red hair, reflecting the light of the dancing flames. His heart froze.

"Wendy!" Dipper dashed forward, ignoring the heat now surrounding him. "WENDY!" He tugged desperately at the car door, but it was bent so that it would not open. He could see her face now, darker red staining her fair features, eyes closed. "No no no no NO!" Dipper adjusted his grip, and pulled with all his strength, leveraging the weight of his small body against the unyielding metal. He shouted his determination, shouted against the darkness, the dimness, and the pain afflicting him. With the agonized groan of metal, the door began to open. Dipper put his back to the car, the heat burning through his vest, and braced his leg against the now-partially-open door. He shoved with all his might, and finally there was enough room. He kicked the door a last time victoriously, but immediately moved into the car. Wendy hadn't moved. Dipper took a deep breath, shoved away distracted thoughts, and took her in his arms. She was taller than him, and he struggled at her weight, but he finally managed to drag her from the burning wreck.

He lowered Wendy's broken form to the black ground, coughing from the smoke, but quickly assessed the situation. Dipper took her bloodied wrist and checked her pulse. He waited, and looked down at her. Wendy looked just as she had that day, the same dark marks under her eyes, the headband holding back her shower of beautiful orange hair, now tangled and matted. "Wendy, c'mon, please…" he pleaded, then coughed again.

Dipper then realized that he was still waiting for a heartbeat. "No!" He checked her neck as well, holding his hand in front of her face to feel for breath, _anything._ "Wendy!" he shouted, voice cracking. He took her in his arms, holding her closer, as if by virtue of his own breaking heart he could make hers beat again. Tears began to run from his eyes, falling to land on her face to leave streaks of gray ash, and his shoulders shook with pain. He pulled her closer, her head on his chest, and he looked up into the black, blank sky, struggling for breath and thought.

Suddenly it was no longer blank. A triangular sun exploded into existence, its center penetrated by a peaked circle. An eye. It spoke to him. _Your fault, you know. Never should have fought back. Just accepted._ It was not the voice he expected, because it was his own.

Dipper gritted his teeth and suddenly his pain became anger. He did not reply, instead looked back down. His eyes widened, and shock struck him like a lightning bolt. He was no longer holding Wendy, but a smaller girl with brown hair, wearing a grimy bloodstained sweater emblazoned with a shooting star.

"Mabel…" he whispered despondently, his will, all his determination slip away from him. Dipper felt himself sink to the black stone, holding the body of his sister in his arms, murmuring her name to himself over and over again, while above the flaming triangle grew to engulf the entire sky, and Dipper knew it would not stop until everything was consumed.

"Mabel, I'm sorry..."


	3. Chapter 3

Dipper was woken by a wad of feathers and fabric hitting his face at approximately the speed of Mabel. He cried out in surprise, limbs spasming, and it took all his awakening brainpower not to fall off the edge of the bunk bed.

"Mabel present and accounted for!" came a voice from below, but it was too late to stop him from whacking his head on the low ceiling. "Ooh, _that's_ gonna leave a bump." she exclaimed. Dipper bit his lip to keep from crying out, and looked down with wide eyes.

His twin stood on the second rung of his ladder with the offending pillow still in hand, peering up at him curiously. Relief filled Dipper's heart, and the weight of dreams lifted from his shoulders.

"You have a funny look on your face. You awake now or do I have to hit you again?" Mabel queried.

"No, no, no, that will _not_ be necessary, thank you, Mabel," he replied emphatically, then dodged back as she swiped at him, beaming up with a braces-filled smile.

"Can't hurt anything!"

"Well, it kinda can and-" He was forced to draw his own pillow in self-defense as his position was assaulted by a determined sister. Her laughter was interrupted by a solidly muffling strike to the jaw, and Dipper let out an enthusiastic "ha-HA!" She climbed up beside him, and they exchanged blows vigorously, their exuberance shaking the frame of the wobbly bunk bed. Finally Dipper gained the upper hand by smothering her giggles with his blanket- it was _his_ bunk after all- and he called victoriously, "All right, you fell beast, cease and desist before I send you to the depths from whence ye came!"

"Noooooo, I will not be vanquished! Blahahblahbaha…"

Dipper let her out of the blanket and they flopped on the bed sideways, legs dawdling off the edge, while their laughter wound down. There was a wonderful silence.

"So… why did you try to murder me in my sleep?" He peered down at the clock. "It's still really early!

"Well, you were basically _asking_ me to, oh, and because mom told me to get you up." Dipper climbed over his sister and down the ladder, while Mabel just slipped down onto her pile of pre-arranged impact pillows with a thump. "You know why!?" she exclaimed, facing him excitedly.

"Well, not-"

"Because it's the first day of sc-"

" _No_ , it very much _isn't ,_ you've been saying that for the last week and-" Dipper stopped as a shushing finger was jabbed into his face.

"Dipper, you didn't let me finish-"

He resisted. "It's still days away-"

"School shopping!"

Dipper's face fell. "Oh. That."

"YAYYYYY!" Mabel began to Mabel-bounce around the room, a treacherous affair with their bags still open and belongings strewn about the place. "School shopping! Allright hurry up hurry up mom has breakfast ready!" Dipper huffed, then realized that she was already dressed for the day.

"Wait, how long ago did she ask you?"

"About fifteen minutes, I didn't let you sleep in _that_ long… " Dipper's brow furrowed as he realized what his sister's dawdling had done for his dreams. It wasn't her fault, however, and he let his frustration out with a deep breath.

"So… before you woke me up… was I doing anything?"

Mabel beamed at him again on her way to the door. "Don't worry Dipper, I won't hold your subconscious dream state against you."

"Mabel! What did you hear?" he pleaded, but she only laughed.

"Let's just say I wasn't the only person you were talking to..." Mabel winked at him and smiled as deviously as she possibly could, then darted out the door. Dipper reddened, then a sudden thought came to his mind, along with words that he felt suddenly needed to be said.

"Mabel! Wait!"

"Yeeeeah?" She ducked back around the edge of the door curiously.

Dipper fumbled with them for a moment, running a hand through his hair, then forced the words out. "I love you, Mabel." She cocked her head at him in surprise, and Dipper shuddered suddenly as the memory of her body in his arms returned to him. "Just thought I'd, ya know, just put it out there…" he finished awkwardly, but she just smiled at him.

"I love you too, Dipper. Weirdo." She sped back around the corner with a parting shout of, "But you still need to shower! I'm not shopping with you if you smell like that!"

"Fine with me!" Dipper returned, but a let a smile grow.. He shook himself vigorously, casting away the darkness from his dreams, and tromped off to find some clean underwear.


	4. Chapter 4

Dipper trotted down the stairs, papers under his arm, adeptly dodging the assortments of household items and knitted things, and found himself coming to rest amidst the chaos of morning. The sound and smell of sizzling bacon, Mabel's enthusiastic and unintelligible speech patterns, and the clinking of breakfast utensils all mingled together in a pleasant fashion. Dipper licked his lips and began his scurry down the hall, but sensed an incoming mass and flattened himself against the wall just as his father turned the corner.

Martin Pines crammed the remainder of a breakfast burrito into his mouth, laptop and half a dozen folders positioned precariously under his arm. "Mornin', Dippa'." Or at least, that's what Dipper could make out around the eggs and potatoes.

"Hey, dad."

Mr. Pines shambled to a halt, clutching his business materiel closer, but made sure to meet his son's eyes. "Sleep good?"

Dipper shivered once, trying to pass it off as a nonchalant shrug. "Well, not really, but I'm doing better now, thanks for asking."

"Why, what's up, bud?" His dad queried, brown eyes crinkling slightly in worry behind square glasses.

Dipper let out a super-convincing casual laugh. "Oh, just your standard run-of-the-mill nightmare, nothing too crazy or traumatic..."

Martin eyed him skeptically for a moment, one hand reaching unconsciously to his square chin, which, along with a solid build, was an inheritance from his uncles. Suddenly a folder shifted, threatening to bring the whole bundle scattering to the ground, and only Dipper's quick reaction saved them from an extra five minutes of picking up various assortables and possibly having to buy a new laptop. Mr. Pines adjusted his grip, and Dipper carefully let go of the fragile pile. "Dad, shouldn't you be on your way to work...?"

"Yeah, you're right, Dipper... sorry about your rough night, maybe we can talk about it later?"

"Eh, maybe, I'm sure I'll be fine, dad," Dipper replied reassuringly, moving down the hall. He opened the front door in advance, still keeping his own papers close, and his father stepped through, nodding gratefully.

Despite the evident dangers, he leaned down and scooped Dipper closer and let his son hug him in return. "We've got to make some time to talk about your adventures with your Grunkle. Have a good day! Oh, and don't let Mabel accidentally steal anything this time!"

"I'll check her sleeves before leaving every store! And you too!" Dipper called, and his dad waved before ducking into his compact car.

A flash of guilt registered, but Dipper shrugged it off. His parents couldn't know about the true events of the summer. They wouldn't understand, and that was that. Dipper closed the door behind him, resuming his hungry scurrying to the kitchen.

"—he had a tail and everything! He could play the guitar too."

"Well, that one sounds better than the creepy bunch of gnome guys."

"I know, right! Mermando was much better."

 _Mabel!_ Panic registered in Diplers mind, but then he recognized his mother's acceptance mode, in which she would listen to anything either of them said, no matter how ridiculous. He decided not to get worried that Mabel was breaking their Accord of Secrecy. It was just her old crushes after all, and it wasn't her fault most of them had been supernatural.

Dipper sat himself at the table, reached for the serving utensil, and froze at his mothers' stern gaze. He shoved back his seat and gave Marcie Pines a hug. His arms wrapped entirely around her slim figure, and she was little more than a head taller than he. She smiled, more felt than seen, and patted him once, her warm blue eyes sparkling. "There, that wasn't too hard. Glad you got to see your dad, he was hoping you'd make it. There's tortillas still warm over there, and I'm sure you remember how to use a microwave."

"Mabel forgot to wake me up, and thanks for making breakfast."

"Dipper!"

"Well, you did."

"Dipper, I distracted her, you can blame me." Dippers' mom sat down between them. "Now go on, Mabel, I want to hear what happened to Mermando. Then it's Dipper's turn."

Dipper froze with his hand on the ketchup. "Mom, I don't think —"

"Oh, if he won't tell you, I will!" Mabel exclaimed.

"No, you won't—"

"In fact, this morning he was—"

"Mabel!"

"Dipper, you don't have to if you don't want to," his mother stated reassuringly, and Mabel reluctantly stopped moving her mouth, and Dipper relaxed. Then Marcie smiled mischievously. "But then again, if you don't tell me, one of these days I might just get curious and seek other sources of information..." she winked at Mabel, who enthusiastically returned it.

"Girls," Dipper muttered, ignoring their giggles, helping himself to a double portion of bacon.

"I hope you learned a bit more about us during your summer, lil' Dipper," his mom stated with a smile. "Mabel's been busy, meeting all kinds of people.""I met people, too." Dipper stated defensively.

Mabel snorted. "You mean just Wendy..."

"That's not true! I met... uhm... Candy! I met Candy."

"Ok, I'll kinda give you that one. Forgetting anyone else?"

Dipper paused. "Well... Pacifica too, I guess..."

"I don't doubt you met people too," Marcie replied, glancing at his sister pointedly, smile still prominent. "Gravity Falls is just that kind of place, and I can see how much more confident you've gotten. Now go on, Mabel."

Dipper grunted and flipped open the bundle of papers he had brought downstairs. Roughly bound together with three simple metal rings, the front displayed a ruler-accurate human hand, albeit with six fingers. He opened the book. On the papers was a mess of unfinished text, rough pictures, and painstaking recreations of codes.  
Ever since the Journals had been destroyed by Bill, Dipper had set out to recreate the tomes of supernatural information, and now that he knew the author personally, it wouldn't be quite as hard as he had feared. And Grunkle Ford had given him creative license!

Dipper leaned forward after a vigorous chomp, writing quickly. "weakness... discovered by Dipper and Mabel Pines... leafblowers." That felt good.  
Their parents thought it was just an innocent fictional compilation of supernatural tales gathered both in the Gravity Falls area as well as those told by Mr. Mystery himself, but to Dipper it was and always would be priceless.

Dipper made another couple of entries, copying some from the pages that Grunkle Stan had recovered from the lab and adding some notes of his own, letting Mabel's slightly de-wierdified (and definitely absent of any possessive dream demons) version of the puppet show fiasco fade to the back of his mind as he remembered, examined, and recreated. He reached out to where he thought the ketchup was, but grasped empty air. He looked up and Mabel slid it the last couple of inches. "Thanks, sis."

"Anytime, broski. And then the entire thing exploded!"

Dipper shook his head, ridding his mind of the shock of watching his body stolen from him. He looked back at the journal. Dipper couldn't keep back the smile from his face as he opened to the back, which was an entirely new section.

Journal Four.

These were his. Well, his and Mabel's, he acceded reluctantly. She had been through enough of that weirdness to warrant at least fifty percent credit. Or maybe forty-five.

"All right, Dipper," said Marcie Pines, standing, "your stories of romance might have to wait, I want to be out of here in five minutes. You think you both can do that?" she queried, lifting an eyebrow. "Do we need to have a door race?"

"Mom, we haven't done a door race in like..." Dipper's words faded as his and Mabel's eyes slowly met the others. "A year..." Mabel's eyes ignited in furious competition, but Dipper was the first to stuff the rest of his breakfast in his mouth and bolt from his chair.

Mabel was halfway around the corner when mom decided to shout,"Plates in the sink!"

Dipper wheeled on his heel, cursing his early start, but Mabel slipped on a loose sweater and overcorrected, and was sent sliding down the slippery wooden hall with a squeal. Dipper completed the task and was back up the stairs with seconds, grinning widely.

"No fair! I have to feed Waddles too!" Came the cry, but Dipper had already darted into their room, snatched up his vest, and looked around furiously for his blue cap.  
His eyes finally settled on a brown lumberjack's hat, sitting proudly in its place at the top shelf of his desk, sharing space the last surviving page of the original journal, and framed pictures of both his immediate family and him, Mabel, and Grunkle Stan posing beside the Mystery Shack.

He took the frame in hand, and opened the back to reveal the hidden picture behind it.

There were his uncles, both of them, Grunkle Ford standing proudly behind Dipper with his hand on his shoulder, and Mabel sitting atop a beaming Grunkle Stan. Beside them stood Soos, who was attempting to bunny-ear the suddenly much taller Mabel, and on the other side near Dipper stood Wendy, who stood with her arms crossed casually with her usual small smile.

Dipper grinned back and took the hat, placing it on his head determinedly, putting the picture back. Wendy had promised to write, they had traded hats for the summer, and she was ok. He wouldn't let a dream scare him. Dipper turned to the door, already calling, "I had time to get all the way up here AND reminisce—" before he was abruptly tackled by a speeding Mabel.


	5. Chapter 5

Rain fell to the North, easing the end of a dry Californian summer. Night fell with it, helping along the shrouded traveler. Rain pattered on asphalt, and the figure made its way to a lit gas station, lonely along a stretch of vineyard-adjoined road.

None of those inside noticed the figure analyzing the collection of motorcycles parked outside under the pump shelter, nor when it entered the small building. It exited a bathroom shortly afterward(how should it understand which was the correct one?) shaking its head in confusion.

It perused the shelves, seeking something to stop the pangs in its stomach, and its attention was drawn to the slowly rolling sausages on a heating rack. Drawing a conclusion from the basic instructions from the directions on the case, it took one of the slender pieces of meat from the rollers and placed it on a bun, sliding the meal delicately on a small paper plate.

The song playing softly on the overhead speakers ended, and another, faster tune came on. The figures head tilted sideways, listening. Within seconds it had picked out a harmony and was humming along.

Approaching the counter, it had to dodge the frames of several large people sporting biking leathers and various chains and spikes, who payed it little attention.  
It plopped the sausage dog on the counter.

"Hello, there," said the convenience store employee, peering down at the small figure curiously. It pulled out a green piece of paper, and the clerk cocked his head at the fifty-dollar bill. "All right, that works, could you please remove your hood?" She smiled sheepishly at the small figure. "Sorry, store policy." The hooded figure looked up at the woman for a moment, then shook its head. The woman blinked, then decided not to pursue the topic. As she worked the register, the figure surveyed the display of gaudily-worked switchblades next to the stand. It found one it liked- it had a pink heart and a thick blade- and reached through the glass as if it wasn't there, taking the blade in hand, leaving a fist- sized piece of iron in its place.

One of the nearby bikers did a double-take.

"All right, that will be 46.17, young man," said the cashier, who had not seen the exchange. The figure nodded, took their change without touching any of the eye-capped pyramids, and turned away, new knife in hand.

"Hey, kid, you gotta pay for that too," called the nonplussed biker, but the figure made no sign of hearing the words.

"Hey!" The cashier called, finally noticing her missing merchandise, and the biker signaled to his friends, who moved to block the path to the door. The dark being paused, hot dog in hand.

"I... give well, no?" It asked, puzzled.

"It's not ok to steal, kiddo," said the biker sagely, dispensing age-old wisdom.

Another added, "Did you hear the woman? Take your hood off!" It shrunk slightly, head darting left and right desperately, finding itself surrounded. It shook its head vehemently.

"Little punk," the first man growled, moving forward and reaching down to remove the figures concealing hood. At that moment, a lightbulb in the ceiling burst in a flash of light, stunning the figure, causing it to drop its paper tray. The man drew back the smaller beings hood to reveal the face of a young girl, framed by ragged blonde hair, eyes hidden behind large sunglasses. But it was not those familiar things that caught their attention.

It was the red mark of an upside-down triangle on her forehead, a seared, jagged scar, with a deep black mark in the center. As if the iris of a dark eye.

"That's a burn brand..." one of the men murmured in the stunned silence.

And then as suddenly as she had frozen, the girl hissed, pointed canines bared. She swept the fallen food from the floor, shoved the hood back on her head, and leapt towards the door, inhumanly high. The men blocking it were too slow to stop her from shattering the fluorescent lights above then with a swift slash, casting flickering shadows around the store. One man reached out, hand closing around the girls' ankle. She cried out, a shrieking sound, and suddenly her booted foot became a drifting shadow. The man swore and fell back, but the figure was gone.

The door closed slowly, ringing the small bell above the door.

In the damp night, they heard the roar of a motorcycle engine, then the sound faded into the darkness. There was a moment of stunned silence, then one of the bikers spoke up. "Earl, I reckon you just got your bike stolen by a demon."

He nodded sagely. "Certainly seems that way, Don."


End file.
